


Matrimony and Strangulation

by Marslion



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage, More characters to be added later, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, kind of?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:21:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26367880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marslion/pseuds/Marslion
Summary: Vader couldn’t even begin to explain: he simply could not understand. “I do not understand my orders, Master,” he said, bowing his head lower. He could feel anger from the Emperor at having to explain his orders.The older man’s footsteps approached him slowly, “Then I will give them again,” came the hissed words above his head, “You are to marry within a week. I care not who you chose, simply that you do it.”Once more the words did not fit in Vader's head; his mind rebelling against the words. "Marry?" he asked, the confusion still clear in his voice-Darth Vader is ordered by The Emperor to get married as a form of propaganda to distracted the people of the Galaxy from the growing Rebellion!
Relationships: Firmus Piett & Darth Vader, Firmus Piett & Maximilian Veers, Firmus Piett/Darth Vader, Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker, Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 107
Kudos: 292





	1. The Order

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterRose3 who I thank a lot for helping me and putting up with all my little messages!

“I don’t understand,” his words echoed in his own head as he spoke them, his confusion rang clear throughout the force, along with disbelief from the small part of him that understood but refused it with its entire being.

The Emperor turned to face him with an amused look in his sickly gold eyes, “I do believe I spoke quite clearly, my old friend.” he stated simply.

“I do not understand,” was all Vader could pull from the whirlwind of confusion that was his own mind. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard the Emperor, though he did certainly question if his hearing had malfunctioned; he simply couldn’t comprehend the meaning of those words put together.

The Emperor frowned now; the smallest of confusion flashing from the force. “What is it that you are not understanding?” he asked sharply.

Vader couldn’t even begin to explain: he simply could not understand. “I do not understand my orders, Master,” he said, bowing his head lower. He could feel anger from the Emperor at having to explain his orders.

The older man’s footsteps approached him slowly, “Then I will give them again,” came the hissed words above his head, “You are to marry within a week. I care not who you chose, simply that you do it.” 

Once more the words did not fit in Vader's head; his mind rebelling against the words. "Marry?" he asked, the confusion still clear in his voice.

The Emperor's eyebrow twitched in irritation. "Yes, my apprentice, marry." He spoke slower now, his anger becoming more apparent. 

"Why must I do such a thing?" He asked, a hint of anger sparking in his chest. 

"My empire grows restless as more and more join the Rebellion! And the Rebellion speaks more truth by the day! We must give the people something to look upon! You are the face of my empire, you represent it! It will please those pitiful commoners," The emperor said, resting his hand on Vader's helmet.

"But-" Vader attempted to speak before a brief jolt of electricity shot through his helmet.

"Do not question my decision, my apprentice." The words were cold and he barely heard them through the spike of pain. "You have a week to locate someone and marry them; do it quickly."

"Yes, my Master." He said bitterly and with a wheeze.

"Good, now you are dismissed! You have much to do; I expect a grand wedding before this week is out." The emperor laughed as he walked back to his throne and sat upon it.

Vader rose and marched from the palace. a bitterness and dread had settled into him. The very thought of doing such a thing was nauseating! He couldn't do that again: he belonged to one person and one alone. 

Whispered thoughts of betrayal dogged him as he made his way back up to the _Executor_ ; he couldn't betray her like that. 

He marched onto the bridge in a slight daze; he didn't even remember ordering to go into hyperspace. It was only the voice of his admiral that drew him out of the dizzying thoughts.

"My Lord, we will arrive at the planet Mustafar in three hours," Piett said calmly, soothing the raging thoughts for a moment.

Vader nodded, his mouth not wanting to form words. 

Piett raised an eyebrow subtly, "Is all well my Lord?" He asked.

Vader's mind briefly short-circuited at the concern he felt in the force from his Admiral; he nodded sharply, still unable to speak.

Piett's brow frowned slightly, "Understood my Lord. Perhaps you would like to go to your quarters?" The question was spoken softly.

He opened his mouth to try and speak, then nodded slowly before turning and walking from the bridge. He needed the mediate.

* * *

Piett watched the back of his supreme commander as he left. Something was concerningly off with the man. He had arrived from Coruscant with a strange feeling about him. When the man had spoken, that sparked concern: he had spoken like he was in a daze. 

It was normal for the man not to speak much, but there was something different about it this time. It was almost as if the man wanted to speak but couldn't. The man had also ordered them to go to Mustafar, which always caused for concern.

The next three hours passed by normally, Piett working as he always did, and before he knew it, the burning planet of Mustafar appeared before the viewport.

He gave someone command of the bridge before marching to inform his Lordship. It was a short walk, the supreme commander didn't care for being far away from the bridge.

The mediation pod was closed when he arrived; normally, it would have opened the moment he came to a stop, but for once, it didn't.

"My Lord?" He spoke calmly and respectfully despite the stab of slight fear.

It took five minutes for the pod to crack open, the black death mask of his Lordship appearing through. "Yes, Admiral?" The deep voice sounded strangely weaker.

"We have arrived at Mustafar. I have already had a shuttle prepared for you." He said with hope that the other wouldn't be offended he took such measures. 

"Thank you, Admiral. I will depart soon."

Piett gave a sharp nod and salute and turned to leave before he was stopped, "Admiral? Might I ask you a question?" 

Piett looked back to the black mask with a hint of confusion in his eyes, "Of course? My Lord." He said hesitantly.

"I have received orders I do not quite understand. Perhaps you can provide me with a satisfying answer." The other paused briefly for an answer.

"I shall try my best, my Lord. What are the orders, my Lord?"

"I have been ordered to find a spouse." Came the clipped answer to his question.

Piett couldn't stop his eyebrows from shooting up in surprise. "I beg your pardon?" he asked in confusion.

The armor-clad shoulders moved in the motion of a sigh. "I expressed such confusion myself." 

This was by far the strangest thing that has happened to Piett and that was accounting for his survival after Bespin. "You are to find a spouse?"

"Within the week." 

Piett barely stopped his noises of surprise. "Do you have anyone in mind?" He asked after a moment of pause.

The shoulders once more sighed. "No Admiral. My apologies for wasting time; I will depart in a moment." His Lordship all but grumbled as the pod slid shut once more.

Piett stared for a moment before turning and leaving; he didn't understand what just took place, it was very much out of the normal for the supreme commander.

He wandered back to the bridge and grabbed his cup of caf. He didn't know why his Lordship had decided to confide in him, but nonetheless, he had, and Piett felt it was his duty to try and provide some form of an answer for him.

That's exactly what he told Veers when they sat down for a drink. "Sounds strange," his friend said as he took a sip, "Why does he have to find a spouse?"

"He didn't say," Piett responded with a shrug. "It was all very strange and confusing."

Veers gave a short laugh, "Well there's not much you can do to help in this situation; what are you going to do? Marry him?" He said with amusement.

Piett thought on it for a moment. He didn't mind his supreme commander, sure there was the fear of being killed but ever since Bespin, it had lessened considerably. The man's temper had gone down since then. But he didn't know the first thing about the man on a personal level, from what he knew no one did except possibly the Emperor.

"Wait you thought too long on that! Firmus, no!" Veers shouted in disbelief. 

"Oh hush Max! You put it in my head!" Piett sputtered out, his face flushing ever so slightly.

"You're worried he's going to snap your neck every time he's on the bridge!"

"Hush!" 

"Oh my stars, you really did consider it!" This turned into a rather loud shocked laugh from Veers. Piett couldn't remember why he was friends with this man.

Piett could feel how red his face had gotten; he began whacking the general which only got him laughing even harder.

"Don't tell me you've got a CRUSH on Lord Vader?" Veers said, trying to block Piett's attacks.

"It's nothing of the sorts!" Piett said in a rather undignified squeak. "You just put it in my head!"

"You didn't need to keep thinking about it!" Veers began to laugh again. 

Piett let out a huff and finished his drink. "It's not like it matters if I do or not Max. I'm certain his Lordship will find someone of suitable enough status." 

Veers sobered up a bit at that. "You’re just as much his equal."

This got a short almost bitter snort out of him, "Must I remind you that he is heir to the empire? Besides, it's not like it would ever happen, or that I want such a thing to happen."

Veers frowned almost sadly at him. "Whatever you say, Firmus."

They sat in silence the rest of their short break; it wasn't that he had a crush on his supreme commander—it wasn't that at all. He simply had a deep respect for the man, and he had confided in him; it was only right to try and help him.

So when Piett went to his quarters for the night, he pulled up a list of all the most important royalty in the core. It was, after all, the least he could do.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterRose3 who I thank a lot for helping me and putting up with all my little messages!
> 
> Hello! this is the second chapter! I got such a positive response to the first chapter and I can't even begin to put it into words how happy all of the comments have made me, I try to respond to all of them but if I missed any I'm terribly sorry! anyway, enjoy this chapter and I look forward to your comments!

Lord Vader arrived upon the _Executor_ two days after they had arrived at Mustafar. In Piett’s eyes, the man looked as well as he normally did: he didn’t notice any limping or any small but noticeable if you learned to read them, signs of fatigue.

He saluted and went into his report on any event that had taken place during his Lordship’s absences. It was a rather short one, mainly about how the stormtroopers had heard something strange in their trash compactor, but otherwise, the two days have been rather uneventful. 

His Lordship merely listened and commented when it was socially acceptable to do so. He was still unnaturally quiet even for him; it caused a small amount of concern on Piett’s part, but he decided to simply do his job. 

“My Lord?” he ventured carefully after a short pause.

“Speak, Admiral.” 

“While you were away, I compiled a list for your problem,” he spoke quietly and slowly, waiting for the invisible pressure upon his throat.

Lord Vader was deathly silent for a moment; the sound of his breathing sounding like the death toll of a bell to Piett. Then, he straightened and held out his hand for the datapad—much to Piett’s shock.

Piett slowly handed the datapad over and took a step back; a small glimmer of joy sparking in his chest at his supreme commander’s acceptance of help.

The taller man stood scrolling through it with a quick, stiff hand, seeming to reject every single one he saw.

Sooner than Piett would have liked, he was handed back the datapad, “Was there any to your satisfaction?” he hesitantly asked.

Piett got the strange sense that his Lordship was giving him a strange look. “No,” came the sharp answer.

“Then I shall compile another list, my Lord,” Piett said quickly with a small bow of his head.

Vader stood very still for a brief moment before giving a stiff nod and turning to march off the bridge. _Strange_. 

Piett sighed once more as he watched the large back leave; he was going to need a lot more caf, maybe something even stronger. But still, he set to work quickly, once more looking at all the royalty within the Core.

It took him a day to make the list, looking carefully at every single person of interest; it was difficult to find one that was worthy of his Lordship, and even harder to find one that his Lordship would be able to tolerate. The list was far shorter than he had wished.

But he was able to present it to his Lordship when he arrived on bridge the next day, only to watch him once more reject every single one of them, to which he said he would compile another.

With the next list, he looked out of the Core to the Mid Rim, hoping to find someone of interest within there. This one took him another day and he realized that if his Lordship didn’t find someone soon, they wouldn’t be able to meet the deadline. 

He presented this one with a little more hesitation, hoping that it wouldn’t be offensive that they were from the Mid Rim. But Lord Vader didn’t even seem to bat an eye, he simply rejected them all one by one again. Piett was beginning to get rather stressed at this point. 

But create another list he did which took him another day, which got rejected all the same. Piett was beginning to think that his Lordship just wasn’t interested in getting married, but he kept trying to help. It was, after all, the least he could do.

It was on the last day of the week that Piett nervously presented his last list, which now contained high ranking navy and military personnel. “My Lord, the week is about to end,” he added as he handed it over.

Vader gave the smallest nod he ever had and went to look through the list. He spent more time rejecting people than the other lists, seeming to even consider one or two, but in the end, it was the same result. 

Piett frowned. “Has there been anyone you’ve considered my Lord?” he asked softly, trying to avoid others from hearing.

Vader’s shoulders once more made the subtle motion of sighing as he gave a small shake of his head. It was strange when Piett jarringly realized how vulnerable he looked for once like the supreme commander truly didn’t know what to do.

“Begin the jump to Coruscant,” the man said, his voice sounding even duller than it had before.

“Yes, My Lord,” he responded as normal, snapping off a quick salute.

He gave the order, and when he turned to address the supreme commander, he was gone. Piett could only frown at how strange this was indeed.

They were about an hour till they arrived at Coruscant when he was called by Lord Vader. He gave the command to someone else and marched off, feeling much like he was marching to his death. At least, he made sure he looked his best for it.

He walked in much like a man on his way to his execution, fearing he had offended his commander. He made a note to bow his head just an extra second longer. “What is it you need my Lord?”

“No need for such formalities, Admiral, the question I have is far from formal,” Vader said, stepping out from the meditation pod. He was without his cape, Piett noticed.

“I will help however I can, my Lord.”

“I would not say such things so quickly, Admiral,” Vader responded, his voice grim.

Piett thought on this for a moment and swallowed hard. “What do you need my Lord?”

Vader stared at him for a second before giving a slow nod. “I regret my having to ask such a request of you, Admiral, and you, by no means, need to agree to such a thing,” He started, each word making Piett more and more concerned. “But unfortunately I am out of time, so I must request that you marry me.”

Piett was shocked speechless and was left gaping much like a fish. What does one say to such things?! “There is no need to answer now; you have an hour or so to think about it. I simply will need an answer before I go to the Emperor,” Vader cut suddenly into his thoughts.

And with that, Vader turned and entered his meditation pod and closed it, leaving Piett to stand there. Piett stood still for a moment before he sprinted away nearly slipping on the perfectly polished floor.

Piett didn’t usually run, in fact, if you weren’t in the middle of a battle situation or carrying important time-sensitive information it was usually recommended that you didn’t run throughout the halls. But Piett didn’t even think about such things, he needs to get somewhere quickly so he intends to.

Veers nearly flinched when he came bursting in, his and all his men’s heads quickly snapping to look at the now disheveled admiral of the _Executor_. “Uh Max, could I speak with you privately?” he asked, out of breath.

Veers quickly looked around before dismissing his men. “Of course Admiral, what do you need?” He walked over to his friend with a fine amount of confusion and worry.

“Not here,” Piett hissed as he grabbed the other man’s arm and dragged him off.

He took them to his quarters where he promptly poured himself a drink. “Is something wrong Firmus?” Veers asked as he watched Piett down his drink.

Piett paced. “You know how you joked that I should just marry Lord Vader?”

“I don’t remember it in those exact words, but sure?”

“Well, what if I did?!” He asked, whipping around to face the other.

“Oh? And why would you do that?” Veers asked, only a little confused.

“Because he asked me too!” Piett said with an undignified squeak, panic rising in his voice.

Veers stared at him in shock for a moment. “You're joking right?” 

Piett only had to give him a panicked look. “Kriff, what are you going to do?” Veers asked, sitting up straight. 

“I honestly don’t know! Do I turn him down? Do I accept?” Piett began to pace again.

Veers stood and poured himself a drink, “Well, uh, what do you want to do? I mean you do have a crush on him,” he said as he sat down.

“Max!”

“What? you do!” 

Piett huffed, “Doesn’t matter if I do! All that matters is I have to decide if I want to marry him in less than thirty minutes.”

Veers took a sip. “So do you?”

“I-I don’t know.” Piett sat down on a chair. “I hardly know him! Like, personally know him. I have the utmost respect for him, but is that enough to want to marry him?”

“Do you know what will happen if he doesn’t marry someone?” Veers asked as he set his hand on Piett’s shoulder.

“You see the state he comes back in after disobeying the Emperor. He tries to hide it, but he’s not very good at it.” Piett sighed, “Should I? It’s not like I have anyone else.”

Veers consider it for a moment, “If it’s what you want Firmus. I think you’re crazy, but that’s me.”

“I’m hardly his equal.”

“Oh don’t start that!” Veers sat up sharply. “You know what, marry him! Prove that you are worthy, rub it in all those Inner Core royals that Lord Vader would rather marry an admiral from the Outer Rim!”

Piett frowned. “I don’t want to marry him and have that be the reason. Besides, how do you accept something like that?” 

“Walk up to him and say ‘Hey, yeah, sure I’ll marry you’ and then boom done,” Veers said with a smug grin. “Okay, but to be fair, he’s probably going to come and ask for an answer,” came the serious answer.

Piett nodded slowly. “Right, yes, when he asks, I’ll simply give an answer.” 

“And what’s the answer?” 

“I’ll decide then.” And with that, Piett marched back to the bridge without another word.

He arrived at the sight of Coruscant, dread settling into his gut at the sight of it. He stood and waited for Lord Vader to arrive on the bridge, quite certain the man would make a stop at the bridge before leaving to speak with the Emperor.

The man arrived fifteen minutes later, which, once more, wasn’t quite the norm for the Sith Lord. He came to stop beside Piett. “Have you considered my offer?” he asked as softly as the vocoder would allow. It was almost endearing.

“Yes, my Lord,” Piett pitched his voice lower as well. “I have decided to accept,” he said almost without thinking.

Vader became stock still, almost as if he was shocked to hear such a thing. It was when he stood like that for a full minute that Piett decided to speak. “My Lord?” he asked, hoping it would draw the man out.

The large, armored man seemed to become strangely nervous; his right-hand twitching in the oddest of ways for him—Lord Vader never twitched. “I will be leaving for Coruscant, then.” His voice had gotten that strange absent tone as it did at the beginning of this whole event.

Piett didn’t even get another word in before Vader turned and walked from the bridge with a strange sway to his movements, almost like he was going to fall over.

* * *

Vader couldn’t believe what he heard; he hadn’t expected the Admiral of his ship to agree to marry him. It was a final attempt at fulfilling his Master’s wishes; the Admiral had provided him with so many lists that it made Vader realize that while he wouldn’t be able to stand a single one of the people on them, the Admiral was someone he found he didn’t mind spending time with, but he didn’t think the Admiral would agree.

He flew to the Imperial Palace in a daze. A strange feeling was sitting within his chest; he didn’t know what to make of it. He felt dizzy and lightheaded but marched straight nonetheless: he couldn’t keep his Master waiting any longer than he already had.

Vader arrived at the large throne room far quicker than a part of him would have liked, but the Emperor was already waiting upon his throne: he was not allowed time to linger. He dropped to his knees slightly faster than was normal. There was a loud cracking sound that accompanied the pain, but he paid it little mind as he bowed his head.

“I have returned, Master,” he said, making his voice as humble as possible.

The Emperor let him linger on his knees for a moment. “Rise, my Apprentice. I certainly hope you come bearing good news.” 

Vader stood and felt a need to run, “The _Executor_ is prepared to do you're bidding my Master.” he said, keeping his head low and still.

Palpatine’s face twitched. “I’m certain it is, Lord Vader, but I do not care for such a thing at the moment. I hope you haven’t forgotten to find a spouse,” came the harsh reply.

“I have my Master,” he said quickly to avoid any punishment.

The Emperor’s face eased into an amused look. “And who have you decided?” he asked in an almost fatherly tone.

“I have decided to take Admiral Firmus Piett as my spouse,” he said bowing ever so slightly.

Palpatine’s face fell. “An admiral? I was expecting someone of higher status,” he said mildly.

A spike of panic briefly stabbed his heart before he buried it deep down. “The rank of admiral is suitable.” He kept his voice level; no one else would have noticed any change, but the Emperor did.

The Emperor thought on such things for a moment, “Very well, my friend, you may marry the Admiral, though I expect to meet him before the wedding! Which is set in a week!” Palpatine said with a gesture of dismissal. “I will have someone to add a splash of color to you on the day; it must be eye-catching for the people.”

“Yes, my Master,” Vader said with a short sweeping bow before turning to leave.

“One more thing.” The Emperor’s voice stopped him. “You must look like you actually care for this admiral; do spend this week with him.” 

Vader didn’t respond with words; he merely gave a sharp nod and hoped that would be enough. He all but fled from the palace, far more desperate then he ever could have imagined to return to the _Executor_ , the feeling that he was betraying _her_ ravaging his mind once more.

His Master’s words were clear: he wanted Vader to be seen about the public with Piett. Vader was unsure of how to go about such things; his relationship with _her_ wasn’t an open one, and he didn’t enjoy being in the public. He supposed he would have to speak with Piett about such things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piett has no clue what he's getting into!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterRose3 who is a very lovely person!
> 
> Welcome to the third chapter! I'll be honest this one has so far been my favorite to write, hope you all enjoy it! and I'd like to thank all of you who commented! been having a very interesting past two weeks and your comments really make my day!

Vader marched back onto the bridge feeling far less in a daze then when he had left. He had debated how best to follow his Master’s orders. He supposed he would simply take Piett down to the surface, to do what he didn’t know, but the orders were clear.

The Admiral stood calmly commanding the ship. He didn’t mind Admiral Piett, Piett had a strangely calm feeling within the force; calm was something that Vader hadn’t felt in years, and the Admiral could do his job, which was something his predecessor couldn’t say.

He watched the Admiral for a moment; the man had agreed to this. There wasn’t anything Vader could do about it now. His Master would have him married in a week, and Vader was always the obedient slave, so marry the Admiral he would.

At least, he could bear to be in the Admiral’s presence, and he wasn’t some incompetent, rich fool who didn’t even know the first thing about a ship. It wasn’t like there was going to be any affection; the suit and the dark side prevented such things, so Vader doubted it would change anything.

“Admiral,” he called, making a small gesture to follow before leaving the bridge. Yes, it would change nothing.

Piett followed after quickly handing over the command; he was quick and efficient. Vader led them into a conference room not too far off from the bridge; he had to inform the other man of the Emperor’s orders.

The Admiral quickly took a seat. The man probably thought this would take a bit of time; he would be correct, seeing how they had to figure out what to do. “Did your meeting with the Emperor go well, my Lord?” His words were to the point, and his eyes sharp in examining Vader, _interesting_.

“The Emperor has accepted you as my betrothed. We are to wed in a week.” The words felt almost like ash on his tongue at the thought of marrying anyone after _her_. “He has requested to meet you and wishes we remain on the surface until the wedding.”

Piett nodded and considered such things. “I would be honored to meet with the Emperor.” _Lie._ “Where does he wish for us to stay?” 

Vader hadn’t thought to ask such a thing. He naturally assumed he would be staying in his tower, but he didn’t exactly want to stay there; there was a part of him that resisted the thought of it, but that’s usually where he went if he had to stay on Coruscant. “Where do you wish to stay?” he uncomfortably asked instead, a part of him screaming to flee as far away from his Master as possible.

Piett showed a brief break in his calm and fiddled with the pen to his datapad. “I have an apartment if it would please you?” he said cautiously.

“Then we will stay there,” Vader said with a snap of a nod, the smallest amount of relief at not having to reside in the Palace appeared.

Piett gave a small, flickering, nervous smile at his response. “Of course, my Lord, though I must warn you, it is not very large.”

“Size matters not,” he dismissed easily.

Piett was briefly at a loss of what to say before nodding. "I will have to stop and get some food then; anything you care to eat?" came the nervous response.

Vader's mind briefly stopped; it has been over twenty years since someone had asked what he liked to eat. "I do not eat," he said, his voice sounding dull to his own ears despite the fact that the vocoder didn't allow for such things.

Once more Piett fell silent, a small bit of confusion and concern flaring in the force before quickly dissipating and being replaced with a tiny shred of shame. “Of course, my Lord.” there was a small bow of the head.

“Finish any work you have before we depart. It would be best not to keep the Emperor waiting,” Vader said as a way of dismissal.

The Admiral gave a quick bow as he stood before heading out of the room. Vader stood alone in the room. He wasn’t sure how this was all going to play out; there was still no sign that this was some cruel joke on the Emperor’s part. He would just have to keep following orders.

He sighed. Vader was sure he would have to speak with the Emperor about what sort of an appearance he wished for out in public. What sort of torture did he wish to put Vader through now?

* * *

Kneeling before the Emperor was an interesting experience, to say the least. It was far colder than Piett could have ever imagined. It was a cold that pierced and clawed its way throughout the body, colder than Vader.

The Emperor had barely spoken and had seen fit to leave them kneeling. There was something dark and disturbing about the burning golden eyes that peered out from the dark, heavy robes that the man wore. He was the most unnerving being that Piett has ever met within this galaxy.

The throne room to the Grand Imperial Palace was empty save for them; the two red guards had been ordered to stand outside the door. “I understand, Admiral, that you hail from Axxlia?” the man upon the throne asked, his voice ice.

“Yes, your Majesty.” Piett kept his answer short.

The Emperor gave a small hum; his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I’ve looked at your service record, and I must say, it is quite impressive,” the man said, a strange, almost grandfatherly smile creeping onto his face.

A shiver ran down Piett’s back. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” He bowed his head in respect.

Piett heard the footsteps and the click of a cane before he even had a chance to raise his head, “You may stand, Admiral; soon, you will learn everything you need to know as the spouse of the heir to the Empire.” 

He quickly rose to his feet not wanting to upset the most powerful man in the galaxy. “Might I ask what that entails?” he asked carefully.

The man let out a small chuckle. “That will all be in due time. First, we must discuss the wedding, Admiral. I figured you would want a little input.” 

Piett glanced over his shoulder over at the one he was to wed. Lord Vader remained kneeling in place, which was strange; surely he was allowed to stand as well. “I’m sure whatever you have planned will be wonderful, your Majesty,” he said, keeping his eyes down now.

“Flattery will only get you so far Admiral. I ask your opinions on this matter, but I feel that you are eager to leave. I will speak with Lord Vader for a moment; then, I will call on you in due time,” the Emperor said as a way of dismissal. 

Piett bowed but hesitated before leaving; he had seen what happens when Vader talked with the Emperor somedays. Piett couldn’t think of any reason that the Emperor would be displeased, but the thought nagged in his mind. 

“I shall wait outside the door, Lord Vader,” He said softly before marching from the room.

The hall was just as grand with large pillars made of white stone and windows that showed the city of Coruscant in all of its beauty. Piett stood in front of these windows. It was strange being within the Imperial Palace; it was large and beautiful in its own way; it almost certainly had a marvelous view. 

The former Jedi Temple could be seen along with Lord Vader’s personal Palace, the large black tower standing out against the Coruscanti sky. Piett couldn’t help but wonder why they were not going to stay there for the week. It would certainly be more comfortable for the Supreme Commander, yet his Lordship had decided that they would stay in Piett’s small apartment.

After ten minutes of looking out the window, Piett found himself growing a tad bit bored, so he pulled out his datapad and was immediately greeted with the newest popular story. He was shocked to see his own face and name plastered all over the holonet.

It declared him Lord Vader’s fiance. It was true, yes, and Piett knew this, but seeing it all over the holonet made it feel so final. It seemed he was truly going to marry Lord Vader in a week; now that the galaxy knew, there was no turning back.

He read more articles than he would ever care to admit in the thirty minutes that Vader was in the throne room speaking with the Emperor. It was strange to see people speculate about him and make up rather false stories. His scroll through the holonet came to a stop when Vader marched from the doors; Piett would never tell Veers how he scrambled to turn off the datapad.

“Where to next, my Lord?” Piett asked as he tried desperately to straighten his clothing.

He could almost feel the dark lord raise an eyebrow. “We will tend to any errands you have,” was the simple response.

“Yes, My Lord.”

The hangar bay for the palace was large and had many speeders and ships in it; Piett had to stop himself from walking straight to the shuttle they had come down on. Vader gave an order to someone before stepping into a black sleek speeder. “Where to first Admiral?” the deep voice asked as the man settled.

“I require food so to the shopping center first, my Lord,” Piett said settling into the passenger seat.

He got a hum of acknowledgment before they took off at a speed that was most certainly not legal. He clung to the sides of his seat in panic as Lord Vader bobbed and weaved through the chaotic traffic of Coruscant. “My- my Lord?!” he cried out as they nearly hit another speeder.

“Is something the matter Admiral?” came the strangely innocent question.

Piett yelped as he jerked his head down. “Is this speed necessary!?” He had to yell to be heard over the sound of the traffic and the wind rushing through their open speeder.

“This speed is perfectly adequate Admiral,” Lord Vader responded as they dived down a few levels. 

Piett knew his Lordship had a slight deathwish, but this was pushing it in his mind. “My Lord, I hate to be a bother, but can you please slow down before I get my head chopped off!?” 

They came to a very sudden stop seconds after he said that; his head hit the back of the seat, and he could feel Vader’s amusement. “We are here Admiral.” Vader’s voice remained the same as it always did, but Piett liked to think he was at least smiling a little.

Piett stumbled out of the speeder and collapsed onto the pavement. “I- I drive next time,” he panted as he tried to keep his stomach.

Vader stepped around until his boots were in front of Piett. “Nonsense, I will drive,” he said before turning to enter one of the stores.

“My Lord, wait.” Piett sighed, getting up off the ground and following. It took him a moment to realize that he couldn’t buy a single thing in this store.

He looked around the shopping center and realized he should have been more specific as to which shopping center. “Um, my Lord? We aren’t in the correct area.” 

“Yes, we are, Admiral. You said the shopping center; we are at the shopping center,” the other man hummed as he pulled a caf machine off one of the shelfs. 

Piett felt his face heat a tad. “I cannot afford this shopping center,” he kept his words quiet to avoid others from hearing him.

Vader spun on him a lot quicker then Piett had seen him move. “What do you mean you can not afford this shopping center? I am certain that admirals are paid decently.” His voice held hints of a rather deep confusion.

“Yes, I am paid well enough; I simply cannot afford this shopping center,” Piett explained calmly.

Vader’s mask stared at him unchanging as always, but he could feel the confusion. “It is of little concern; I will simply pay for it,” the man said after a moment of silence.

Piett gaped for a moment. “I can’t let you do that, my Lord,” he spoke quickly.

“Why ever not?” 

“I simply cannot!” 

They fell silent and stared at each other. “Admiral, you require food, and we are here, so I will pay for it.” Vader all but hissed.

Piett frowned. “There is no need for that; simply take me to one of the lower level shopping centers.”

Once more, they came to a standstill, Vader still holding the caf machine. “Admiral, we do not have time for such things; simply collect what you need.”

“We have plenty of time, especially with your kind of driving,” Piett grumbled.

“What was that, Admiral?” Piett got the feeling he was being glared out.

“Nothing, my Lord,” he ground out before marching off to get food.

The store was larger than where Piett usually shopped, but it had a better selection than his normal store, and the produce was fresh and far cleaner. 

He went about gathering things with a set frown; he was not pleased with this situation and knew that Veers would have laughed at him if he saw. Though, to be fair, his friend would tell him to simply let Vader pay for his food.

Bitterness had settled into Piett’s heart as he threw food items and things he was sure he would need into the hover cart. “I will simply pay for it,” he grumbled under his voice in a mock attempt at the other man's voice. “I can pay for my own food.”

He shopped around for thirty minutes before he found himself hunting around for Vader. He was quite surprised that someone of his Lordship’s size could simply disappear; though to be fair, it was a rather large store.

Piett found the man he least expected him, the children’s toy area, which was most certainly an interesting sight. The man stood with the caf machine cradled in his hands as he stared at all sorts of plush critters; there was something almost somber about the tall armored man as he walked slowly through the section.

“My Lord?” Piett said after a moment of watching.

Vader did something Piett had never seen the man do before: he flinched, rather strongly. If Piett had to guess his expression, he was sure it would be one like a child guilty of being caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. It was rather strange.

“I’m done,” he said instead of questioning the man's actions.

Vader nodded slowly. “Of course.”

With that, both men walked to the checkout, and despite Piett’s continued protests, Vader paid and bought a caf machine.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again want to thank the lovely WaterRose3 for being the beta for this fic! https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterRose3
> 
> This is the fourth chapter! I'm shocked at all the comments and attention that this fic has gotten! I love every single comment and kudo that this story gets and I hope to continue to entertain you all!

The ride to Piett’s apartment was just as stressful as the ride to the shopping center. “I am most certainly driving from now on,” he grumbled as he got out of the speeder feeling just as dizzy as last time; he was simply happy he was standing.

Vader didn’t bother to respond: he simply cradled his caf machine with both hands once more and floated the rest of the bags around him. “My Lord, I can carry some of it,” Piett said as he tried to snag one out of air. It simply floated away and ignored him, much like Vader himself.

The man held the caf machine like a child holding an egg they found on the ground; the blank death mask was tilted down and his steps were slow and careful. Piett continued to try and catch some of his groceries as he rushed to get to the door so he could unlock it.

His apartment most certainly wasn’t the most spacious or the most pretty, but it was comfortable. “In here, my lord,” He said, holding the door open for the other; Vader only briefly lifted his head in acknowledgment before he walked inside and turned his focus back to the caf machine.

Piett led him to the kitchen area and set to putting things away. Vader would give the things to Piett which led to them being done fairly quickly. 

“This is the living area, over there is the refresher, and across from it is my bedroom, my Lord,” Piett explained as he led the other around. There wasn’t much to show; he kept very little here.

Vader nodded along with his words, the caf machine ever-present. “Understood, Admiral. You may go about your business,” he rumbled before moving to the counter and setting his box down.

The armored man slowly opened the box for the caf machine; it came out in pieces. “My Lord, I’m sure you can get it replaced,” Piett said quickly, trying to avoid an outburst.

Vader looked up at him with the smallest of tilts to his helmet. “Why would I require a replacement?” he asked almost innocently.

“It is broken, my Lord?” Piett stated with confusion.

Vader turned back to it. “That was the intention, Admiral,” he rumbled before opening a tool compartment on his belt. He set about repairing the broken caf machine with a skill Piett has never seen before. “Continue on, Admiral.”

Piett had to admit that the sight of the small tools in Vader’s large gloved hands was quite amusing: the gloves were far bulkier than Piett had ever realized as they lacked the ability for fine motions which he had never realized. 

The man fiddled with the broken pieces calmly, a word not commonly used for the armored being, but Piett felt like the man was truly calm in the moment. 

He decided to stop watching the other and set to tidying up his apartment: dust had settled over the surfaces in his absence. There was something calming about cleaning for Piett; it was an easy enough motion that allowed him to think.

It allowed him time to linger on the fact that he was engaged to Lord Vader; that had been confirmed by the Emperor himself and was flooding the holonet. A part of him still believed it was a silly dream, but it didn’t seem like he was going to wake up anytime soon.

He opened the blinds to allow the Coruscanti sunset through the window; it seemed the first day of their engagement was slowly coming to a close. Piett didn’t even know what to expect from such a thing: it wasn’t like Lord Vader was a very physical person. In fact, the man usually chose to kill the officers who failed him without even laying a hand on them. 

Piett didn’t know what to expect as affection from the man. Would there even be affection? And if there was, would it be the tooka cat bringing dead prey kind of affection? Honestly, Piett could see that quite well. Or would their relationship not change at all? Maybe it would remain the same as it was now.

He cared for Lord Vader, that was for sure; he respected him as a leader. And perhaps, a small part of him wished for the other to feel the same for him.

When Piett had imagined getting married in his youth, he had imagined it would be one out of love and mutual respect, not a random decision made on the spot. Piett didn’t regret it, but he didn’t know what to make of the situation. 

He gave a light sigh before heading back into the kitchen area. It was getting late so he might as well cook something for him to eat. 

Cooking was another soothing thing for Piett: he wasn’t very good at it, but he enjoyed the motions; there was nothing but him and the movements of his hands. 

It didn’t take him long to make his meal, a simple dish from his home planet: something to help calm any nerves from this newest development. He sat down at the counter and watched Lord Vader work on the caf machine while he ate, still finding the tiny tools to be amusing. 

“My Lord? Might I ask a question?” He started carefully.

Vader’s helmet rose to look at him quickly before returning to his work. “I do believe you just did, Admiral,” he rumbled as he fought with a screw that refused to go where it belonged.

Piett huffed, “You know what I meant.”

The vocoder made a strange static noise. “Speak.”

“What is the plan?” 

This got Vader to turn his attention back to Piett. “What plan? I will follow my Master's orders.”

“I understand that, but surely, we must come up with some form of a plan, like where do we go from here? What changes?” Piett explained slowly.

The helmet tilted in Vader’s show of confusion. “Must things change?” he asked in that strange tone of his: Piett never could tell what it meant.

“I assume things will change, my Lord,” he spoke much like he did when speaking with traumatized victims of Hutts. 

Vader gave a frustrated huff. “And how do you see things changing?” he asked with a more irritated tone.

Piett briefly wondered if this was a safe thing to speak about. “Well normal marriage would entail affection and a show of said affection, though I don’t believe we are quite there: we barely know each other on any form of a personal level.” 

Vader’s helmet tilted slightly to the other side. “What do you want, Admiral?” he asked with what Piett was sure was a glare. 

“I think we should try to get to know each other. The Emperor doesn’t seem to be providing us with an out if things go wrong, so we should try and get along.” 

Vader seemed to bristle at the words “get to know each other”. “I think the relationship we have works perfectly well,” he said, almost in discomfort.

Piett sighed. “The Holonet is going to want to see a show, and if we don’t give it to them, it’s going to turn into a mess.” 

The other man turned and began to organize parts of the caf machine. “My Lord, we need to seem like we actually want to get married.” Piett kept his voice soft. He was beginning to get worried that the other was getting distressed; a distressed Vader is very bad to be around.

Vader didn’t respond for several minutes, Piett was beginning to worry that the other would start simply ignoring him when he spoke, “What would you recommend then, Admiral?” His voice was the softest Piett had ever heard it; he didn’t even know it could do that.

“First, I think we should learn to drop the formalities.”

Vader huffed, “And what should I call you if not by Admiral?”

Piett sat back and thought for a moment. “Normally people who are engaged call each other by their first names, so you could either refer to me as Piett or Firmus.”

The other shifted slightly. “You will simply refer to me as Vader.”

“Do you not possess a first name, my lord?” 

The gloved hand jerked suddenly and knocked over the carefully stacked parts. “I do not see why it would matter,” Vader grumbled.

“Of course not; forgive me,” Piett apologized quickly.

Vader went about restacking the parts. “What else must we discuss?” he asked calmly. 

“I think that will do for tonight,” Piett answered. There was much more he wished to discuss but didn’t because he didn’t want to anger the other. Piett was no fool.

The black helmet gave a sharp nod before Vader refocused on fixing the caf machine. Piett washed his dinnerware before wandering off into his room.

* * *

Piett had planned to comm Veers as soon as he was in the apartment; he knew he had to reassure the other man that all was well. After all, he didn’t really have time to tell Veers what was going on. It took the other man a moment to answer, but soon, his voice rang out from the comm. “Firmus? What happened? You just left the ship.”

The concern and panic in his friend's voice was clear. “I’m alright Max. As for what has happened, it’s a long list.” Piett sighed: it was a relief to hear the other.

“Please don’t tell me you actually agreed!” 

“Yes I did.”

“Firmus! I was hoping I was wrong about you being crazy!” Max cried out in exasperation. “You know I was joking when I said that; why must you take everything so seriously?!”

“What was I supposed to do Max?! Deny him and probably die?” 

He could hear Max sigh heavily. “If he were to kill you over something like that, I would have to reevaluate my loyalties. Firmus, where are you? You can’t just hand off your job and run off without telling me.” 

Firmus smiled softly. “I’m at my apartment; Lord Vader strangely accepted my offer of staying here,” he answered with a small laugh.

“Are you kidding me? The man has a palace, and he decided to stay in your dingy apartment? Not even I like sleeping on that couch, and I’ve slept on rocks.” Max said in disbelief and amusement.

“My couch isn’t that bad.”

“Yes it is; stop lying to yourself.” 

“We’re getting off track.”

“You're correct, my apologies.” Max laughed. “What is it like?”

Firmus frowned. “I asked him to take me to a shopping center, he took me to one I couldn’t afford, and he insisted he pay.” 

This made Max burst into laughter for at least five minutes. “Oh what a tragedy! Lord Vader paid for my dinner!” he said dramatically. 

“I would hit you if I could,” Firmus grumbled. 

“Are you really annoyed that he paid, Firmus? I would have let him without a fight.”

Firmus huffed, “It feels wrong: he’s still my superior, and I don’t want to take his money! That’s not why I’m doing this!” 

“Why are you doing this Firmus? You could get killed,” Max said. Firmus could tell he was frowning.

“I could get killed every day I walk onto the bridge: it comes with the job,” Firmus hissed. “I don’t know why I’m doing this honestly.”

“I still think you're crazy, but I’m going to get some time off and make sure you don’t do anything crazier than you’ve already done,” Max said. “And don’t even try to stop me: you know you can’t. I’m so going to whack you over the head when I get there.”

Firmus threw his hands up. “I don’t need you to babysit me!” 

“Normally I would agree with you, but seeing how you're making the craziest decisions known in the galaxy, I feel someone has to keep an eye on you. Besides, I’ve gotta make sure that he actually treats you right, and maybe I can get you both laid.”

Firmus sputtered undignifying “Max- Max, why would you say such a thing!?” 

He could hear the other man laugh over his noises of protest and couldn’t even begin to fully comprehend what the other had said.

“I’m hanging up now! Goodbye!” He squeaked, barely hearing the other man protesting before he turned off the comm and curled up in his bed, hiding his face. The words that his friend said were going to haunt his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a pain in the butt, Vader is a diva who only wants to do what he wants to do! Luckily both me and Piett were able to get him back on track, I'm not the happiest with this chapter but I hope that you all enjoyed it and had fun! 
> 
> Here's my Tumblr!: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/themarslion I don't post often but if you guys want to send me any ask I'd be more than happy to answer them!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Let me just say, this chapter went through a lot of different changes! I'm very proud of how this came out in the end though, I hope you all get a good laugh out of this chaos 
> 
> And now! once more time to thank the most lovely https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterRose3 for being the beta for this mess!

Piett was a simple man; he liked to follow a pattern in the morning. He would wake up, shower, and dress, and then he would go and get some caf. His caf machine was an old but reliable machine: all he had to do was put a pack in and press a button.

The machine Piett was currently looking at was not this old reliable machine; this one was shiny and new with far to many buttons. He blinked once or twice in confusion, his morning brain unable to understand where this strange machine came from.

He held a mug in his hand as he stood in his kitchen with still blurry eyes. It took him five minutes to understand where this machine came from. It dawned on him that it was the caf machine that Vader had begun repairing the previous night.

Piett could feel his brow frown. He turned on his heel and marched into the living area. “My Lord, where did my caf machine go?” he barked, his temper rearing its head for once with the lack of his morning caf.

For a moment he swore he saw the black armored man by the window flinch. “And what do you mean by that Admiral?” the deep vocoder asked hesitatingly.

His brow twitched. “My caf machine, it is not there.”

The black helmet tilted in its sign of confusion. “What do you mean?” 

Piett felt the entire left side of his face spasm in irritation. “You know perfectly what I mean!” Piett marched back into the kitchen. “There! My caf machine is not there.” 

Vader walked slowly to stand beside him and looked at the caf machine Piett was pointing at in a small fit of rage; the helmet tilted to the other side. “I see a caf machine; I am not understanding the issue.”

He let out a huff. “This is NOT my caf machine: I do not know this caf machine.”

The other turned to face him. “It is a caf machine, though. The old one is over there,” he said pointing over to one of the other counters.

Piett’s head snapped to look at his old caf machine: it sat unplugged. “Why did you move my caf machine?” he asked sharply.

“I needed to test the repairs.” His answer had that strange innocent sound to it: he made it sound like it was the most simple thing in the world.

He heaved a sigh. “My Lord, I would have preferred you ask me before changing my caf machine.” He held his hands together in front of his face and counted down silently in his head.

The helmet tilted further. “But does the caf machine work?”

Piett could only stare in shock at the other. “How would I know? I don’t even know how it works!”

“That is simple.” It took fifteen minutes for Vader to explain every feature that the caf machine had. It sounded like the man was reading off the box then going into details that confused Piett.

By the time the other was done, Piett felt like screaming. He didn’t even want the caf anymore: he just wanted to go back to bed.

Suddenly, Vader began preparing a cup of caf. For a moment, Piett wondered if he actually was asleep, but when the caf was gently nudged against his hand, he had to accept the fact that, yes, this was currently happening.

“You didn’t need to make me a cup,” he murmured softly in shock.

He felt the others' eyes staring at him from behind the red lenses. “I require knowledge of its taste.” 

Piett nodded slowly. “Yes, of course.”

And it was honestly the best caf he’d ever had: he ended up burning his tongue as he drank it.

* * *

Piett had to be honest, going about in public with Vader was a strange event. The man stood out like a sore thumb, he cared little for the opinions of others, and he despised reporters. To be fair Piett didn’t much care for them either, but the burning hate that Vader felt towards them was a little much, even for him.

That’s what they were dealing with when they decided to go for a walk. Yes, it was Piett who suggested they put on a show for the holonet, but he didn’t mean they should put on a show by floating one of the reporters who was brave enough to approach!

“Vader put the poor man down.” he sighed and spoke loud enough to be heard over the man's screams of terror. 

The armored man tilted his head towards Piett. “He was disturbing us; he must be taught a lesson,” he rumbled with much irritation.

“Doesn’t mean we just float him around: just simply ignore them and move on.” Piett turned to resume his walk, hoping Vader would follow along.

He heard the squawk and crash as Vader dropped the man on something and then Vader’s heavy footsteps as he marched to walk beside Piett. “That was very rude, you know,” Piett hissed under his breath to the other.

The vocoder let out a strange static noise as Vader folded his arms over his chest. “He was rude: I simply returned his rudeness with my own.” 

Piett sighed very heavily at that. “Just because someones rude does not mean you get to do that or kill them. If everyone went around doing that, then the galaxy would have fallen apart,” he stated rather sharply.

Vader seemed to sulk like a child as they walked now; Piett did his best to ignore both that and the flashes as people took holopics and gawked as they walked by. Piett was beginning to wonder why he suggested such a thing.

“Where are we going?” Vader questioned after several minutes of silence.

Piett turned to look at the mask that was angled towards him. “I simply wanted to stretch my legs: exercise is good for you. I also want to quickly look around the marketplace.” 

The black helmet turned to look back ahead. “If you wanted exercise, there was a gym not too far from your apartment: we could get to the market much quicker with a speeder,” the man grumbled.

“I wanted fresh air while I exercised. Besides, his Majesty wants us to be seen around the public,” Piett explained. 

Vader let out a huff but still walked with the other. The man was in a rather foul mood now despite the slight almost happy behavior when he was explaining the caf machine.

They walked for another five minutes before Piett had an idea. “Give me your arm,” he said quietly. He could feel the confusion that suddenly came off of Vader in waves.

“Why ever would you want it?” he asked haltingly.

Piett sighed. “Because the holonet wants something they can talk about for days, so just give me your arm.”

Vader very slowly offered the arm. He was clearly still confused but at least he wasn’t fighting Piett over it. He wasted very little time wrapping his arm around the suit covered appendage. The other did flinch at that and almost pulled away.

He had to be honest: the arm felt far different then he had imagined (he, of course, didn't imagine this often). It was hard and unyielding; Piett knew Vader had prosthetics, but most prosthetics now had synth skin that made them feel like any other arm. Vader’s felt like they didn’t have any synth skin, but there was at least some padding in between their arms.

Vader remained tense when Piett walked a tad bit closer to make it more comfortable as they walked; the poor man acted like nobody ever so much as touched him. “Calm down, it's alright. We’re just putting on a show,” he whispered softly in the hopes of calming the other.

The man didn’t relax one bit but made it look like he wasn’t going to crawl out of his skin. More people stared at them as they made their way to the market center: it was going just as Piett planned.

The market was bustling with all sorts of beings as they arrived: Piett had taken them to one of the lower levels. He looked at the stands with Vader’s arm safely secured on his own, gathered things, and made sure to stop and look at some of the mechanics' stands.

Piett had to admit: the amount of looks they got was making him a little uncomfortable, but he couldn’t let that be known. He stood tall and tried to ignore the way people gossiped and spoke about him. Vader walked stiffly beside him; his breathing the only noise he made.

Vader tensed further when another reporter got brave enough to shuffle on over to them: a pale blue Twi’lek female approached with a large friendly smile. “Lord Vader! Might I have a moment of your time?” Her voice was cheery and her face kind, but Piett could feel the temperature drop with the other man's mood.

“My deepest of apologies but we must be getting home,” Piett said, cutting in as he grabbed Vader’s hand and forced it down to their sides.

He could feel the way the cold dissipated instantly and the way the black helmet jerked down to look at their joined hands, but Piett decided not to linger on that: he was more focused on keeping the poor woman alive.

“Uh please! I’ll only be a moment, I just need your thoughts and plans for the wedding.” She took a step closer and the cold returned a little.

Piett allowed himself a quick glance over at the mask: it was angled down, and the breathing was slightly faster. “Ah well, I’m not allowed to say. Lord Vader is a very private man and would rather the wedding be a more private affair.” He gently stroked the other’s knuckles with his thumb in the hopes of keeping him calm.

“So is it going to be a small wedding?” She pressed on as more crowded in, all wanting their scoop.

“That is the Emperor’s choice as we are allowing him to plan the wedding,” Piett explained calmly.

Another report pushed themselves to the front. “Is it true your Lord Vader’s admiral?” They shouted over the others, their holorecorder shoved into Piett’s face.

Piett blinked briefly against the flashes. “Uh, yes, I am Lord Vader’s Admiral,” he said trying to hide his discomfort on where this might be heading.

“When did you meet?” Another voice asked from the crowd.

“When I was appointed to Lord Vader’s ship.” He tried to move back a step and squeezed Vader’s hand, fearing he might decide to take matters into his own hands.

Voices began to overlap and overwhelm Piett; he could barely pick out one question to answer. “Where is the wedding going to take place?” one voice asked.

“When is the wedding?” another cried.

“Where do you plan on staying?” All far too loud for Piett to even think over.

The metal fingers tightening around his hand made him quickly look down at their hands. Then, a series of loud popping noises and flashes made him jerk his head back up. 

Every single holorecoder laid broken on the ground. “That’s enough!” Vader’s voice boomed, startling everyone. “We will be leaving. If you value your lives, you will not dare approach us any further.”

All of the reporters shivered in their boots before Vader tugged on his hand, and they started walking. Piett stared in awe at the black mask; he hadn’t expected that.

The walk home was quick, and Vader held Piett’s hand the entire way, which was both shocking and pleasing. “Thank you for getting us out of there,” Piett said once they were safely inside, moving to gently pull his hand out of the others grasp.

For a moment, it caught, still held securely in Vader’s. Piett looked up at the mask, opening his mouth to speak when it was released and Vader took a step back. “You should know that holonet reporters will do anything to get what they want. You shouldn’t indulge them,” the vocoder said softly.

Piett wasn’t able to get another word in before Vader sweeped away from him to stand in front of the windows, the conversation over. 

He flexed his hand for a moment. It felt strangely cold now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, you might get more chapters here soon! I went on a bit of a spree because we are finally closing into on the wedding! which legit haunts my dreams


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOf wow! sorry, this took so long life has been busy, but I enjoyed writing this chapter even though it went through SEVERAL changes along the way.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it and please share your thoughts! of course, the lovely WaterRose3 was the beta for this chapter!

Veers stood in Piett’s door two days before the wedding, and the Admiral couldn’t have been happier to see the other man. “Firmus! Apologies that it took so long: I couldn’t get time off,” the man said as he walked in.

“That’s fine, Max; come and sit down.” Piett led him back into the living room. Vader stood in front in his preferred spot in front of the windows, his mind clearly elsewhere.

“How have you been?” Veers sat down. It was clear the other was eyeing the armored man. 

Piett gave a slight smile. “Don’t worry: he’s not listening at the moment.”

The other man gave him a slightly startled look. “How are you sure?” Veers whispered nervously.

“He’s meditating: he doesn’t pay as much attention around himself when he’s like this,” Piett explained with a slight laugh. “You can speak your mind; he won’t care.”

“You really are the Vader whisperer,” Veers said in awe. “But really are you alright? How has that been?” He asked, gesturing toward Vader with his head.

Piett gave a slightly nervous smile. “It’s been fine, he’s not the easiest to get along with.” 

“But you haven’t been injured at all?” Veers asked softly, his eyes flickering over to the tall black man by the window.

Piett shook his head. Surprisingly enough, Vader had been fairly well behaved. The man hadn’t even so much as raised his voice, not even when they argued over him replacing Piett’s caf machine with Vader’s newly repaired one.

Veers watched him suspiciously. “You better not be lying to me Firmus,” he grumbled bitterly.

“He is not, General,” the rumbling voice of Vader made them both jump. “The only injury he has received in my presence was a burnt tongue from drinking his caf too quickly.”

The two men shifted uncomfortably on the couch. “I shall step out,” Vader said, turning and marching out the door.

They sat in silence for a moment. “I think you offended him,” Piett murmured as he stared out the door.

Veers went white. “I’m going to die, and it’s going to be two days before your wedding.” He stood and paced. “He’s going to snap my neck because I offended him!”

Piett sighed and stood to stop his panicked friend. “He’s not going to snap your neck: the Emperor has forbidden him to do so,” he spoke soothingly. “Sit down and let me get you something to drink.”

“I think I’m going to need something strong.”

“Sadly, Vader removed all the alcohol from my apartment: he claimed it was useless to have and just took up space.” Piett patted the other man on the shoulder. “I’ll make some tea.”

Veers groaned loudly. “Why did he do that? It wasn’t useless! It was going to keep me from losing my mind.”

Piett laughed as he walked into the kitchen. “My, what a sight. You’ve been here for such little time and you're already losing your mind. I must say it’s a new record.” 

A pillow off the couch flew across the room to land just short of the kitchen. Veers huffed as he slumped down into the cushions. “Don’t give me any of that weak stuff; if I’m going to drink tea it’s not going to be bland and boring.”

“Of course Max.”

It didn’t take long to make the tea, and soon enough, they were relaxing in the living space. It felt a little bit more like normal with Veers around. 

They sat and drank their tea, only talking about the things that had happened aboard the Lady in Piett’s absence. Many of the crew were shocked when it was announced that Piett was going to marry Lord Vader and even more shocked when the holopics of them in the market holding hands appeared. Many of them had asked Veers to give them dirty details about Piett and Vader's relationship.

Which, of course, the man couldn’t provide because there were no dirty details or secrets. Some were now debating and questioning Piett’s ascension to the rank of Admiral, while others refused to even look at Piett’s ascension in fear of the Supreme Commander somehow finding them and relieving them of their heads.

Piett couldn’t even begin to count the amount of random people stopping him in the streets. Now, they rarely left the apartment, but when they did, and Vader wandered off as he seemed to like to do, people would gain the courage to ask him how he came to be engaged to the tall, armored man.

By order of the Emperor, he was not allowed to tell them the true story, so he had to spin this wild tale about them growing close together in this time of war. Even Piett had to admit that that story was far more interesting.

“Do you two just spend all day here?” Veers suddenly asked after a good moment of silence.

“Yes? Where else would we go?” Piett said slowly. “When we go out, everyone stares.”

Veers stood up. “So? I say we grab Vader and go out, maybe to a bar or something? I’m off duty, so I can drink, and maybe we can convince him to drink as well.” Veers flashed a smile that only meant trouble as he spoke.

Piett eyed him carefully. “I don’t think Vader can drink: he’s already told me he can’t eat.”

The smile quickly disappeared. “Well socializing won’t kill him, unless you’d rather it just be us.” 

Piett let out a sharp laugh. “No, it won’t kill him! Everyone else on the other hand...” This got Veers to join in the laughter.

They spent a moment simply enjoying the sound of each other's laughter before they calmed. “Come on, Firmus, let’s go out and have a bit of fun,” Veers said softly as he rested his hand on Piett’s.

“Alright, but I really should bring Vader. If the holonet saw me without him and with another man, it would explode, and the Emperor would have my head.” Piett gave him a smile and stood. “Come along then; we best find where he wandered off too.”

Veers smiled at him and stood. “Let’s go find ourselves a supreme commander.”

* * *

Piett and Veers found Vader half way up a wall further down the street. “What in all the galaxy are you doing?!” Piett cried in shock as they walked up.

The helmet snapped over at them in confusion. “Whatever do you mean?” He asked in that strangely innocent tone that both amused and frustrated Piett.

“What are you doing up there?” Piett asked again; he couldn’t even begin to understand how or why Vader would be scaling a wall.

The man inched a little further along the wall. “The high ground is always required, Admiral,” he rumbled, his voice showing very little strain.

“How is he even doing that?” Veers asked behind Piett.

Piett shook his head in disbelief. “Why is the high ground required now?” 

Vader didn’t bother to respond: he simply climbed further up the wall. Civilians peaked out their windows to spot the climbing supreme commander; small flashes appeared as many took holopics.

“My lord, I think it would be best if you got down,” Veers called, joining in Piett’s efforts to get the other down.

A strange snarling noise came from the man up on the wall. Much to Piett’s horror, he watched him simply let go of the wall instead of climbing down like a sane person would. Vader landed on the ground with grace and a rather loud thud. “Is there something you need?” His voice sounded sulkier then normal.

Piett took a brief moment to compose himself while Veers answered the question. “We were planning on going out, and we felt it would be best to invite you along my lord.” His words were quick and to the point.

The lens seemed to stare into them for a moment before Vader titled his head in confusion. “Where do you plan to go?”

“We were planning to get a drink,” Piett spoke up.

Vader turned his head to face Piett fully. “Isn’t a bit early for alcohol?” he asked slowly.

Veers sighed. “It will probably just be one drink: it’s more for the social part of it,” he explained.

Piett was almost certain Vader was frowning under his mask. “We’d enjoy it if you would join us,” he spoke softly in encouragement.

They stood watching calmly as the armored man tried to decide what he wanted to do. Piett didn’t plan on pushing him; if he didn’t want to come, then Piett would simply deal with the trouble that would no doubt stir.

Vader nodded after a moment. “I will join you.” His words were careful and slow, as if he was unsure of what he was saying.

Piett could feel Veers let out a breath: he couldn’t tell if it was out of relief or fear. But with a smile, Piett began walking, offering an arm to Vader.

It was still strange to have his arms wrapped around Vader’s, but it wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, Piett almost found himself enjoying it. Veers took them to a nearby cantina, a respectable enough place and within Piett’s budget.

The cantina was mostly empty because of the time of day, but a few people were seated around having a decent enough time. Well, they were until they noticed the walking shadow that was Vader.

Piett and Veers went and sat at the bar and ordered their drinks. “Ah, it’s nice to have a drink in an actual bar,” Veers sighed after taking a swig out of his cup.

He couldn’t help but give a light chuckle at his friend. “It has been some time since we were planet side. I will admit that it beats drinking alone in my apartment.”

They chatted for a moment, which was nice. But it didn’t take long for a little bit of trouble to start brewing. The sound of a chair scraping across the floor deeply unnerved Piett, the large Nautolan that marched over to them even more.

They didn’t order a drink: they simply sat far closer then either Piett or Veers would have liked. Vader hardly showed a sign of noticing as he stood behind Piett.

“We don’t like your kind here,” the being hissed quietly in the hopes of avoiding Vader’s attention. The strong scent of alcohol informed Piett that this one has most certainly had enough, probably too much if they were trying to pick a fight when Vader was right there.

Piett settled for ignoring the Nautolan, but Veers didn’t seem in the same mood. “Well, our kind are one of the few who come to this joint,” the general grumbled.

It turned out to not be the best decision, as with an angry snarl, they grabbed the front of Veers' shirt and raised a fist. Sadly, it never made it to its target.

In all of Piett’s time working with Vader, he had learned one key thing: the man was probably the most dramatic being Piett had ever met. So, he responded in proper Vader fashion: a red flash made everyone jump as the glowing heat of a lightsaber settled uncomfortably close to the Nautolan’s eye, the poor being flinching away in fear.

“You would be wise to remove yourself from this establishment,” Vader’s voice sounded behind Piett’s head. He was pressed close to his back with an arm snaking its way to the front of Piett’s chest.

“Of- of course, my lord! I will leave right away!” the being cried before stumbling away, tripping once or twice as they went.

Vader straightened fully and put away his weapon. “Is this the kind of socializing you normally do, General Veers?” he asked, cocking his head to the side in what Piett hoped was amusement.

Veers ran his hand down his shirt. “Not usually: they normally just ignore us.” 

The black helmet shook in what could be disappointment before Vader took a step back, hooking his thumbs into his belt and watching their surroundings. Piett blinked quickly a few times. For a moment, why had Vader wrapped his arm around him?

“Let’s just hope nothing else eventful happens before the wedding,” Veers said with a laugh. “Come on Piett; let’s have some fun.”

Piett let out a soft amused huff. “Of course Max, lead on.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOO! after chapter seven comes out we'll be right on to the wedding! which will probably lead to me up the rating of this fic and add some warning tags for some rather dark thoughts and Vader's part, but I'm telling all you guys that it's been a hoot to write! It is finally no longer haunting my dreams


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings once more! It is time for another updater!! I enjoyed writting this one and I hope you all enjoy it! Once more it is time to thank my lovely beta who looks at this mess and tells me if it's good! https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterRose3

The next day, Piett stood in his doorway with a raging headache and little memory of the previous night. A strange man he’d never seen before stood in front of him with a slight disappointed look in their eyes. This person had dark grey hair with white specks and sharp dark brown eyes, and their face was set in a false smile that screamed how much this person didn’t want to be here.

“Hello! I’m assuming you’re Admiral Firmus Piett?” Their voice was on a slightly higher range than one would associate with the strong jaw, and it had a small, condescending tone to it. 

Piett gaped for a moment. “Um, yes, I’m Admiral Firmus Piett,” he stumbled out, his mind still waking up. This man had arrived unreasonably early.

The fake smile turned into a pained grin. “Wonderful! I’m Doctor Robin Levy. Lord Vader is present, correct?”

Doctor Levy barely waited for Piett to stutter out a yes before lightly pushing Piett aside, the man shorter than Piett, coming about to his chin. “Can I help you Doctor?” Piett managed to get out as the doctor wandered into the living room.

“Hmm? Oh no, I just need to see Vader,” the doctor hummed as he looked around. 

Vader was strangely not by the window he usually was in the morning. In fact, Piett hadn't seen him at all today, and he didn’t remember enough of last night to guess. “He doesn’t seem to be present at the moment,” Piett said to the other.

Levy let out a laugh. “Of course he’s not! He rarely is where I can find him, especially when he knows why I’m here.” 

Levy rubbed lightly at the small stubble on their chin. “If you were running from your doctor where would you go?” Levy asked as he spun around to face Piett.

Piett’s brain fumbled to comprehend this event without caf. Luckily, Veers waking up on the couch distracted the Doctor before Piett had to respond. “What’s this about running from a doctor?” 

Veers sat up and stretched. “I’m looking for Lord Vader, do you happen to know where he’s at?” Levy asked the yawning man, their tone holding a fake happiness to it.

The man on the couch rubbed at the back of his head for a moment. “I think I saw him head out last night: it was very late when he did it.”

The fake smile grew more strained. “Of course he did! Do any of you have the faintest of clues where he went?” the doctor asked, looking between the two men.

Veers looked at Piett with confusion. “Unfortunately not Doctor, but we will hope you find him,” Piett’s still sleep-addled mouth responded before his tired mind could even bother to catch up. “Just allow me to get dressed.”

The harsh lines around the Doctor's brow lessened. “Thank you, I’ll wait outside.” Levy quickly turned on their heels and whirled out as quickly as they arrived.

“Who even was that?” Veers asked slowly as they both stared at the door.

Piett only shrugged before walking to get his long overdue caf. He didn’t know how this strange doctor managed to find his apartment.

But nonetheless, he wasn’t going to simply lead someone to Vader without confirming with the man. So caf in hand, he walked into his bedroom and pulled out his comm. Vader had two comms: one for normal work and one for emergencies. Piett commed the latter.

It took far longer than normal for Vader to answer the comm; Piett was beginning to worry when the dark rumble came from the device. “What is the emergency, Admiral?” came the question. Piett gave a quick sigh of relief.

“You were not here, and a strange doctor by the name of Robin Levy has arrived asking for you.” He sipped from his caf.

The line went silent for a minute. “Did he say why he required me?” 

“No, he simply said he was looking for you. I have him waiting outside, what are your orders?” He fell easily into the tone he used for reports.

A strange static burst forth before Vader spoke. “Tell him I will arrive in a few minutes.”

“Of course, my lord.” He hesitated a moment before continuing, “Might I ask where you went?”

Vader’s breathing continued even as the man’s words fell silent once again. “No,” came the almost hesitant answer.

Piett gave a nod he knew the other couldn’t see. “Understood, I will inform the doctor that you will be arriving shortly.”

He turned off the comm and gave a heavy sigh. He spent a moment to finish his caf before dressing quickly. 

Veers wandered out of the bathroom fully dressed right as Piett stepped out. “What are the orders?” he asked seriously, none of his previous sleepiness present. 

Piett straightened. “Lord Vader said to inform the doctor that he will be arriving soon. Until then, I do believe we are to keep an eye on the man.”

The general nodded before walking back to the living room to check the blaster he had taped to the underside of the caf table. Piett marched out of the front door to see the doctor leaning on a wall not too far from it.

“I’m assuming you called Vader?” the man asked with that fake smile once more.

He eyed the strange doctor for a moment. “Yes, he said he’ll be here soon.” 

Levy pushed himself off the wall. “Good, he’s late,” he grumbled before walking to his speeder and pulling a small case out of it. “No need to worry about me, Admiral: I’m just here to give him a quick check.”

Piett frowned. “Is he alright?”

This had the other nearly keeling over with laughter. “Are you joking? No, don’t answer that. I’m not allowed to speak on the matter; all you need to know is I’m just here to do a small check,” he said after getting himself under control.

“Is there something that has warranted this quick check?” Piett prodded gently: he didn’t like not knowing what was going on.

Levy raised an eyebrow at Piett. “If you must know, the Emperor ordered it. He wants him to be in perfect condition for the wedding.”

Piett eyed the other supposedly. “Of course, I would never go against the Emperor’s wishes.” He held his head high.

“Yes, I would never dream of doing that.” Levy walked up to the other, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to need to use your apartment; can’t exactly do it on the sidewalk.”

The Admiral gave a sharp nod. “You can set up in the front room,” he replied with a chipped tone and escorted the other in.

Doctor Levy went about setting medical equipment onto the caf table, all under Piett’s careful watch. The man said he worked for Vader but Piett still wouldn’t trust him until the man himself arrived.

It took Vader fifteen minutes to reach them from wherever he was, but with much relief to Piett, his speeder banked into a parking space and came to a halt besides the doctor’s. 

The black armor all but flew out of the driver's seat. “Vader, he’s waiting in the living room,” Piett greeted from the door as soon as the man strided over.

Vader gave a quick nod and entered properly. “Is there something you require, Doctor Levy?” his rich voice asked as he came to a halt behind the couch. He was almost hesitant to approach further which put both Piett and Veers on guard.

“My lord, I apologize for arriving without much warning. I am here under orders from his Majesty: he wants me to do a quick check before the wedding, which is tomorrow, might I remind you.” Levy wasted little time and marched around the couch with a medical scanner.

Piett frowned. “As far as I’m aware his lordship is well.” He couldn’t help but speak up. 

Levy gave a soft laugh. “As much as I admire your loyalty and protectiveness, you're not exactly qualified to make that decision. Besides, as I stated, it was the Emperor’s orders.” 

Piett could feel his face quickly flush. He took a small step back and elbowed Veers in the side as the other suppressed his laughter.

“Levy, I would prefer to do this in private,” Vader said as softly as his vocoder would allow.

The doctor's face briefly softened as he gave a soft nod. “Admiral, do you have a room we can move to?” His voice was still sharp.

Pett frowned. “You can do it in here.” He led the doctor to his bedroom.

Levy wasted very little time moving all his stuff into there, and soon enough, the door was closed in Piett’s face, blocking him from protecting his lordship if anything should go wrong.

* * *

To say Doctor Robin Levy didn’t like the Emperor would be a lie. He didn’t merely dislike him: Levy hated the man with every fiber of his being. Levy has been employed to Vader for eight years, and in those eight years, Levy has learned the true meaning of hate.

True hate was witnessing a man you cared for suffer at the hands of a monster.

True hate was that man coming to you and confessing the part he played in the destruction of your home and family. Levy didn’t hate Vader for such a thing: he hated the Emperor for ordering it.

Levy knew of every monstrous act Vader committed and of every single scar the Emperor put on an already destroyed man. Levy was aware of all of this as he kneeled before a true monster.

“Is he well Doctor Levy?” the voice hissed in fake concern, leaving an inky feel upon his mind.

He raised his head to look at the pale face standing out of the black void that surrounded it. “Yes, your Majesty,” he said with a fake smile of his own. He didn’t fear death, as death would mean he would be returned to his family, but he knew he was too important to die.

The face twisted in a dark grin. “That is good to hear, Doctor. I have a question I wish to ask you now.” Levy could feel the shadows circle him like a cold predator, a predator that hunted for fun.

“Whatever you wish, your Majesty.”

A dark cackle came from the stain of ink upon the throne. “I have always enjoyed you doctor, you rarely lie. Answer me this good doctor: what would be the effects if Lord Vader was without his pain medications?”

Levy felt ice enter his veins. “He would, of course, be in great pain, your Majesty. There would be other side effects that I can see you care little for, but as his doctor, I would not recommend it.” He was barely able to keep a snarl from his voice.

The emperor hummed. “This is all hypothetical dear doctor; do not worry about such things.” The gnarled hand waved him off with little concern.

“Your Majesty, he relies on those medications to move. Without them, he wouldn’t be able to think clearly,” Levy protested.

The shadows closed in, “Doctor, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing: I do care for him,” the void lied as it always did.

Levy could feel his frustration grow, but he wasn’t an idiot. Fighting the Emperor on a matter like this would only cause more trouble. He lowered his head and burned a hole into the floor with his glare. “Of course, your Majesty.” He barely hid the burning rage.

The ink rose from the throne and walked to stand beside him. “Doctor, do keep this to us yes?” Claw-like hands rested on the back of his head and sent ice that burned into his mind.

“As you wish,” he ground out.

“Excellent, have a good day doctor.” The shadow walked past him out of the throne room, leaving him shivering.

Levy didn’t fear death, but there were fates worse than death, and he didn’t plan on meeting such fates. With a bit of effort, he stood. He couldn’t tell Vader that the monster had something horrible planned for the wedding, but he could be present to help after that.

He marched from the palace with a cold gaze. Yes, he understood what the Emperor truly was, and he wished the man would burn like Alderaan, and although Levy may be a medical man, he hoped the Emperor went screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The OC Robin Levy will become a character you'll see often and I hope you like him, he's a bit of a bastard man and was heavily based off of Ratchet from transformers prime!! on a more serious note, I decided to up the rating on this fic just to be safe and to give myself a little more wiggle room! 
> 
> And be sure to check out my tumblr! I'd be totally willing to answer asks and if you want to find my headcanons that I've started posting their under the tag Headcanon Time


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!! My stars I'm so sorry ^^' I kind of disappeared for a little bit there huh? I got a little distracted with other projects but! Here's part one of the wedding day!! fair warning, it came out a little less funny and fluffy as was originally intended. The next few chapters are a little bit more serious and that was because my brain decided it wanted a little bit of a plot for this crackfic, but I hope you enjoy it despite the slight change!
> 
> This chapter was beta'd by https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraLan/works who helped me out a bit!

Vader felt ill and numb as he stared into the mirror in front of him. Servants worked around him. They shined his armor and pulled a red cape with a golden chain around his shoulders.

He hated the way they fawned over him, all while his Master paced and talked behind him. Vader couldn’t even hear his Master’s words anymore, blood rushed through his ears and he fought against the nausea that clawed at his stomach.

A servant stepped onto a stool beside him and grabbed his helmet, pulling it a little closer. Most would never dare to touch him in such a way, but these were his Master’s servants, they held no fear of him. 

They raised a small brush covered in what his mask identified as gold paint. Gold was not meant for him. Gold was meant for a child who was free, for a man who had it tattooed into his skin with the names and designs from the clones who served with him, gold had boiled in Vader skin, gold was no longer meant for him.

Elegant lines were drawn onto the black helmet with a delicate hand. He hated the gentle movements. Today was the wedding day, and his Master was making it into a grand, over-the top-event. Vader felt sick and in pain.

Another servant grabbed one of his hands forcefully. If he could feel, he was sure that the grip would have been painful. They fought to put a golden bracelet around his unyielding wrist, and it closed like a binder.

Vader hated every bit of care the servants put into trying to make this monstrosity of a suit look good. He wanted nothing more than to claw every bit of it off, to rip the black suit off, and allow it to burn like the rest of him had. He was sure the paint would leave gold flakes on the charred remnants just as it did for him.

“My lord, if you could please kneel,” the nameless servant asked. All of their voices were soft as was expected of slaves.

His body screamed louder than normal as he lowered himself to his knees. Vader could feel some of them move behind him. In the mirror he swore he could see her, her face was set in a harsh look of disappointment as she stood tall, her hands rested softly on a young boy’s shoulders.

He didn’t know who the young boy was, it could have been the young Anakin Skywalker who looked at a young queen and called her an angel. Or it could have been the young angel born from that queen, a child he would never be able to know.

Vader was well accustomed to pain, it was part of every day he breathed. But the pain that scorched through his mind at the thought of betraying her in such a way, he was turning away from her, he was being made to move on.

He knew it was impossible, but he swore he could feel his breathing stutter. He could no longer shed tears, but he felt as if he was. 

A silver circlet with jagged obsidian horns and intricate designs with red kyber crystal was fitted onto the black helmet, gleaming brightly as it contrasted with the black and gold paint. Never before has something felt weighed heavier than his helmet.

“You may rise now Lord Vader,” His Master's cold voice was dripping with false care, his gnarled hand curled on top of Vader’s shoulder, as if to keep him on his knees.

Rising was more painful than kneeling, his thighs crying out in agony. It took every bit of will he had to keep from stumbling. A small voice whispered that something was wrong but was drowned out by pain.

“Remember my old friend, this day is for you and all of the Empire! Do not let the past ruin it,” his Master said. The cold hand that gripped his armored shoulder tightened in the Emperor’s excitement. He would have the distraction he wanted, no one would be thinking of the rebellion on this day.

It would be a show, as Piett had said, and they were the stars.

A servant approached slowly. “Your Majesty, it is to get you ready,” they whispered to the Emperor.

The Emperor made a small gesture with his hand in dismissal and they all scurried away. “I will return for you when it is time,” he said with that cruel fake warmth.

Grief began to overwhelm and choke him as he stared at the golden shackles that encircled his wrists and curled around his throat, he wanted to scream and rage, he wished to weep and fade from existence.

The mirror shattered as he lowered himself onto the floor with a soft wail that burned his throat and his vocoder struggled to translate. He would never allow his Master to see him like this. The large red cape embraced him as he silently wept.

* * *

Piett frowned as he adjusted the stiff collar of his outfit. It looked very similar to a formal uniform but was more of a midnight blue with white specks on the edges that looked like stars. it came with a black side cape that faded to brilliant white, all made of fabrics that he would never be able to afford in his wildest dreams.

This day, the day that he was to wed Lord Vader, felt surreal. The day before had been strange, but this morning has been stranger. 

A speeder had arrived at the crack of dawn to retrieve him and bring him to the former Jedi temple that had been under renovation since before Vader asked him to marry him. He didn’t get to look around before he was shoved into a room with Veers and given the fancy outfit he was now dressed in.

He didn’t know where Vader was, but he assumed that somewhere, Vader was doing the same thing. 

He sighed before forcing his feet into the knee-high black boots. They were stiff and the straps on the sides were hard to do but with Veers’ help, he was able to get them on properly.

“How do you feel?” Veers asked softly, breaking the long-lasting silence. 

Piett gave him a nervous smile. “Fine. A little like I’ve been put into a torture device.”   


The sound of Veers’ laughter calmed his nerves enough to join in, “Well, we have three more boxes that most likely hold more torture.”

They both walked over to said boxes and peeked inside, one was another set of clothes most likely for Veers while the second one held shining golden jewelry, it was the third that made both of their mouths briefly drop open in surprise.

Nestled upon a black pillow was a silver circlet with black gems, it looked delicate and elegant but simple. Piett let out a sudden squawk as he all but threw the lid back onto it in shock.

Veers quickly jumped to make sure it didn’t get damaged or fall, “Stars Firmus! Don’t break it!” he cried after settling it back on safety.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” Piett sat down heavily on the chair and picked at the edge of the white gloves that came with this whole attire.

His friend gave him a soft smile, “You’ve got cold feet. It’s alright, just breathe. I’ll be honest, I don’t think you can back out anymore.” Veers kneeled next to Piett’s chair and took Piett’s hands in his to stop him from fiddling the gloves in his nervousness.

“What if this goes horribly?” Piett asked softly, “I can’t wear that. I come from nothing!”

Veers gave a soft sigh, “Come on Firmus, don’t start talking like that,” He took Piett’s face in his hands, “If anyone deserves this it’s you.” 

Piett gave a small laugh. “You're too good for me, Max.”

Veers slowly rested their foreheads together, “You bet I am,” he said with a smile.

Piett took a few deep breaths before pushing Veers back. “You should get dressed.”

They slowly stood and walked back to the boxes, Piett settled for ignoring the one with the circlet and grabbed the one with the clothing for Veers. He turned his back to the other while he put on the silver bracelets and the heavy medallion. He stood in front of the mirror once more and smoothed out the shirt.

“Well Firmus, what do you think?” 

The uniform that Veers had been provided with was the classic Imperial gray but the cut flattered his form, medals that he had received were displayed proudly and were shined perfectly.

Piett could almost convince himself that this was just some random formal event, but that idea was shattered when Veers picked up the circlet. “Come on now, It won’t be too long before they call for us.”

Veers was gentle as he settled it upon his head, it felt strange and weighed more than he would have expected but he kept his head held high. “How does it look?” He asked softly, still too uncomfortable with the idea to turn and face the mirror.

Veers eyed him for a moment, letting him squirm as he took his time. “I think I prefer you in the hat,” he said with a short laugh.

Piett let out a snort before turning around, and he couldn’t help but agree. The circlet stood out with its gleaming silver and black gems and made him look of a far higher class than he was. He much preferred the common gray officer hat.

The door creaked behind him as a guard dressed in red stepped in, “It is time to begin,” their dull voice droned.

Dread crawled its way up to Piett’s throat. He knew he couldn’t do this. Vader was the heir to the empire, and he deserved someone of equal status. “Come on Firmus, I’m part of your escort.” Veers lightly brushed his elbow.

Piett took a deep breath and held his head high, Piett wouldn’t say he was the best sabacc player but he knew how to hide emotions well enough; no one would be aware of the nervousness and panic that ran rampant in his mind. 

He stood tall and marched out of the room with the proper posture expected of an admiral of the imperial navy. An escort of the 501st stood at attention and fell easily into step. The red guard that had informed him it was time took up the back while a trooper with a small blue line on his shoulder plating took up the front, moving quickly and efficiently.

Far sooner than he would have wished they stood before a pair of doors. He could hear the chatter of guests and the clicks of holorecorders from beyond the doors, and he would be lying if he said his nerves didn’t spike at the sounds.

Veers’ hand brushed his hand against Piett’s secretly. The moment Piett walked through those doors, his life would be changed forever. He took a deep breath and gave a short nod to one of the guards. The doors groaned as they were pulled open, and Piett raised his head as he stepped through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there it is folks! the start of what this whole fic was building up to!! It's a little shorter than I wanted but I'm rather pleased with it!! The Vader scenes were the ones that have been haunting my dreams for far longer than I would care to admit but it's here now!! I'll try to get the new chapter out sooner than I did this one but sadly that depends on how life goes, it's been a little crazy and stressful this year so I hope you all are doing well and this maybe brings a smile to your faces.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! first I'd like to once more thank WaterRose3 who had to look at this in it's worse form! and I'll also thank all the lovely people of the server I'm in who inspired me to write! this is my first fic posted on ao3 so please stick around if this interests you
> 
> Here's my Tumblr!: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/themarslion


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